


Lady Marwen's Request

by Partran



Series: Winterrock Shenanigans [2]
Category: Fandom (Anthropomorphic), Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Anal Sex, Character Development, Cheating, Drug-Induced Sex, F/M, Impregnation, Long, Married Couple, Plot, Polyamorous Character, Sisters, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Stick Fighting, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 22:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Partran/pseuds/Partran
Summary: In the northlands the gentry wife of a tribal chieftain must betray her husband's trust to secure his rule and prevent a war that would see his tribes destroyed.





	Lady Marwen's Request

** Lady Marwen’s Request**

by Partran (<http://www.furaffinity.net/user/partran/>)  


Written: 3/17/2017

“I will not let fear drive me. I make my choice and accept what consequence it brings. I have stared down chieftains, merchant princes, and the empire alike. I give no home to doubt.” Staring into the hard gaze of her own reflection, Liana would be the first admit that this was a bit melodramatic, but she felt stronger for saying it. The naked figure staring back at her from the ornate, full-length mirror was graceful and slim. Her black and rust colored fur faded to cream on her front and muzzle. There was gray here and there these days, but a little touch of powder was all it took to hide them from prying eyes. Lady Liana Marwen turned, admiring the slender lines of her own body. She was proud that she had kept at bay the fleshiness that was all too common among the court. Alas, this honor came with a modest bosom at best. “Boyish” was the word sometimes passed around by those who thought she didn’t hear.

She was a daughter of lords and had indeed stared down chieftains and merchant princes. Tonight’s tension in her gut came from merely facing her own pride and shame. In comparison they were inconsequential. Behind her, the short, plump otter who had been her maid and friend for years was busying herself over a corset and frilly things that was as much her battle attire as her husband’s mail and helm were. Her father and her husband both were active and vigorous wolves who could wore their mantle as leaders in battle with a practiced ease, but Liana was the politically astute lady of this court. She was the velvet glove and her husband the hammer held.

Liana stood before the long mirror in the wood paneled interior rooms of Castle Marwen, a great stone edifice that crouched low and wide in the broad and flat valley that made up much of the clan’s lands. Most of the castle, and even the surrounding village, was stark and austere, but here within her and her husbands chambers the traditional woodwork and draperies had made the chilly stone rooms feel considerably less barren. The room was lit with warm golden glow of oil lamps and the fire in the hearth. On wood panels lain over stone, she strode expensive rugs brought from the imperial capital to the south. The dressing room was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the chill autumn night outside, darkness fast approaching on sunset’s heels.

Finery peeked from closets and jewelry glittered from open drawers and cabinets as she looked herself over, appraising what she had made of herself. Nearing the middle of her third decade she felt that perhaps, finally, just maybe, the blush of her youth had begun to lose its luster. Faint traces of gray in her muzzle and hair had to be tactfully masked to match her deep red-brown fur. She thought she looked a bit weary, as she gazed into the glass, but arranging this banquet had been keeping her busy for weeks and would have left her worn thin even had she not been plotting behind her husband’s back. The idea of what she was doing niggled at her, it wasn’t right and her husband would never understand were he to discover her plot. She looked into the mirror, repeating the litany once more, finding her resolve. He would never know.

“Ah, Verona.” She said, grateful for the distraction, as the otter walked forward in the awkward gait of her kind. They were always slightly out of sorts on land, Liana thought, but they were amazing swimmers, clever with their hands and quick witted. “Are we ready?”

“Yes’m.” Verona said, her carefully groomed whiskers less unruly than most males of her species and her bright brown eyes almost worshipful of the lady wolf. She was a bit shorter than Liana, a bit plump with her round hips and thick tail that held her dress off the floor. She wore a simple black and white maid’s gown. She was both sweet and diligent, though shy around those she thought of as her betters. Verona was a commoner they had first met when they were both teens living in Liana’s father’s estate. The Lady had become fond of Verona and in the intervening years they had shared many confidences as friends, “It’s near time to go greet your guests. We need to hurry.”

“Ah, Yes! What had we decided on?” Liana asked, grateful for the distraction from the web of thoughts.

“Satin and the bell, Ma’am.” The otter chirped as she rolled the mannequin with Liana’s dress across the wooden floor into the changing room.

_“_Ah, the bell_.__”_ Liana muttered acidly, that damn tight waist and the explosion of hips. Still, it would suit tonight’s needs.

Verona stood as high as her squat legs and long torso would let her, helping Liana begin to dress in the rich deep crimson and gold she favored. The simple mundane task of hands and fasteners and of standing still as Verona tugged and tied and clasped helped Liana put aside the thoughts of the betrayal of her husband that was to follow.

“That’s good, Verona. Not too tight.” The lady turned and regarded herself in the mirror once more as her maid went to fetch the jewelry that she had chosen for the night. “And you delivered the letter?”

“Yes, ma’am. This afternoon.”

There was a moment of hesitation that made her turned to see that Verona was blushing and looking embarrassed, “And?” Liana prompted.

“He’s... uh... very big ma’am. Big as M’lord. And...” The otter bit her lip, the insides of her ears burned and the round muzzle’s whiskers fluffed out in embarrassment before she blurted out, “He’ll be a fine sire, strong pups.”

Liana caught a hint of lustful jealousy in that appraisal. She considered her old friend and servant for a few moments, wondering if the otter regretted not having left her service to make a family. There had been many potential suitors of her species in the capital, but almost none since she and Lady Marwen had come north with the, then, courting clan leader that was now her husband. It was a moment before before she pushed those thoughts aside. As much as she cared for Verona, now was not the time to address her long lonely, possibly lonely service.

Taking the jewelry from Verona’s hands, Liana settled the necklace into place and sought her reflection to judge the result. She turned slowly and let the illusion of composure fall into place. Here, in her chambers, with her friend, she could be just Liana, but dressed and adorned, back straight and about to step out into the hallway, she was Lady Liana Marwen.

Some weeks prior and far from the wide northern valley that Lord and Lady Marwen called home, in a small parcel of land along the edge of the eastern sea a curious message arrived in a remote county. Hemmed between jagged peaks of tall mountains and the icy sea, Winterrock is connected to the capital via rail during the warmer months and by memory alone during the long winters. In an estate scratched out in the stony hills overlooking the county’s largest village, a letter is unfolded by hands much larger than the one that penned it and a servant waits to learn the contents of the queer missive with the unfamiliar seal from so far away.

Dusk watched the tiger’s green eyes skim the parchment held delicately between his thick fingers. There was a sense of the scale being off as he held the small folded note. He was one of the largest people Dusk had ever met, around nine feet tall he loomed even without meaning to. It was easy to forget that when he was surrounded by furniture of his own size and the overall feeling was one that made her feel dwarfed until she was outside of his private chambers.

At nearly seven feet tall, herself, she was by no means some small creature to feel diminutive in anyone’s presence. Her stature was of great aid in providing a powerful presence as Partran’s steward. She would carry out his orders or, more often, anticipate them and see what needed to be done for his estate to tick over smoothly was done before he had to order it. Now, however, she stood near his immense desk and watched him reading. Grey-blue eyes and snow white hide on her somewhat muscular equine body filled the high-necked and austere navy blue dress well. Her white hide gave way to black towards her hands and ink black hooves. The only thing she didn’t care for, when she considered herself, was the smooth, slightly curved, horn that sprang from her brow just before her dusky black mane began. The glossy black spire stood over her forehead and marked her “shameful” mixed parentage.

Her employer, for lack of a better term, was taller still. He was a tiger, built large even for their kind. He towered over most people, but when speaking with an equal of lesser stature he often found excuse to sit or crouch so as not to loom more than he could help. His orange and black fur were smooth and well groomed and while there was grey around his muzzle it suited his bearing. At the moment, his large, square muzzle had perched upon it a pair of half-moon spectacles that he rarely allowed others to see him wear. Otherwise reading the fine script on the relatively diminutive letter would require him to squint in an undignified manner. He was composed and his finely tailored suit cut sharp lines on his powerful figure as he sat behind his desk. The only thing not quite in matching that fashion was a large and irregularly faceted ruby hanging on a cable about his neck.

The tiger silently read the letter twice before laying it on his desk. He reached up and removed the glasses and, as he folded them, said, “It appears the Countess Liana Marwen is considerably more versed in the Obscure than I would have guessed.”

Dusk’s mobile equine ears perked up at this in genuine surprise “Oh? What does she say?”

“She’s aware of the nature of my amulet, for one.”

Dusk was surprised. It wasn’t easy to fathom the significance of the tiger’s particular choice in jewelry and the lore about it was forgotten by all but a few. The “Obscure” was the catch-all term scholars often used for the oddments of latent magic or religion that persisted from the ancient eras. The legends of ages past were often filled with references to the Obscure and some devoted their lives to the pursuit of it.

“How?”

“I don’t know, yet.” He rumbled. “She has offered that answer as well as her discretion on the subject if we are willing to attend a banquet she is hosting and for me to “provide her with a certain service.” Her words, those.”

Dusk scowled at this, the taste of it feeling wrong to her, “Blackmail?”

“No. She says that she shall pay the traditional fee but that for her discretion we must provide the same.”

Dusk considered this for a moment, digging into her extensive knowledge of the various nobles both major and minor and the ever changing web of intrigues that kept the Empire’s ruling class busy. Partran had no interest in such perpetual social play and counter-play and that was most likely the reason he’d been effectively exiled to this far-flung county when he had been granted a title for service to the Imperial Crown. He had simply no interest in playing that game and took the quiet and remote outcrop on the frigid coast as a sanctum as much as a land holding to govern.

Dusk recalled that Countess Liana Marwen was originally from the inner provinces, her family had done very well financially and they were on that odd middle ground between traditional nobility and the financial elite that had taken advantage of the rapid progress and growth of industries. Her father was well known to be shrewd and far sighted, able to play the stolid old guard nobles as well as the younger merchant lords well and rumor had it that Liana had learned a great deal of her savvy from the old wolf.

“Interesting.” She mused, “And does the letter give any indication of that service?” She had a suspicion what it would be, but it didn’t quite fit. Liana was married to another wolf, the tiger’s business in that regards wasn’t something she’d likely need either. Still, they’d been married for some time and Dusk had not heard of any heir.

The large feline turned to her, sitting at the leather topped desk. “No. It could be something alchemical I suppose, or maybe she has a golem that needs work? But neither of those beg the kind of discretion she’s asking for. It doesn’t make sense unless the stone is needed for the task at hand. I’m a fine alchemist but there’s as good nearer and just as discreet.”

Dusk approached the desk, glancing at the letter meaningfully. Partran nodded permission and she reached to pick it up, turning it over and looking at the careful script of someone who’d learned to write at one of the best schools in the empire.

“I assume you plan to attend?” She asked as she scanned the lines of the letter, impressed at how circumspect Lady Marwen was and never saying specifically what she was discussing. Should this letter have been read by someone else they’d like as not have no idea what obtuse phrases like “No knowing what special providence brought you into the possession of so singular a bauble” meant.

“Yes.” His reply was flat and he shifted in his chair, unable to get comfortable in his chair as he thought about the letter. “I’m concerned as to how she found out and hope to make it harder for the next inquisitive sort. I also admit I’ve a bump of curiosity about the whole situation.”

She finished reading the letter before laying it on the desk. “She aimed well, then.” She knew well that Partran’s curiosity would lead him across the continent even more surely than the payment or what Dusk was still trying not to consider blackmail. “If you’ve no further need of me, sir, I will go begin preparations for this trip and inform the sisters.”

“I want you to join us, as well. I’ll have need of someone who plays the game better than I do to make sure I don’t end up offending some priestess or lordling whose sole purpose at being there is to bed the servants.”

Dusk smiled, “Of course, sir.” With that he smiled and then turned his attention to writing a letter accepting Lady Marwen’s invitation. Quietly, Dusk turned and her long tail swished as she stepped out and drew the door closed behind her.

The early autumn event was still two months off and positioned at such a time that Partran and his retinue would be able to attend and be back through the mountain passes before winter cut Winterrock off from the rest of the empire until spring. Liana had planned this well. The season wouldn’t allow for an excuse to be made and she had done well in hooking the Master’s considerable curiosity.

She walked along the long corridor from the Master’s study, the wide hallway echoing her footfalls as she thought about her preparations. The trip there and back would likely take the best part of a month and without her here to manage the estate she’d have to let Layla and Max know what needed to be done in their absence. Heading out of the manor house via the servant’s entrance she walked the winding cobbled path through the extensive gardens towards the stables where she found the red panda sisters, Sying and Yuying, sparring.

They were in a cleared area of packed earth surrounded by a low wall and a variety of targets and practice dummies. When not attending to other duties they were often here training or lounging in the sun. As Dusk approached she could hear the clatter of wooden weapons and, turning the corner, saw the sisters passing through a drill of sword and buckler.

Sying was slightly taller than her half sister, more muscular and with short, bobbed hair. Her blue eyes were serious and she naturally wore a stern expression. In contrast, her sister was more curvaceous and generally jovial with long hair tied back out of her way. It was rare to see her serious and Dusk was aware that she did her best to keep her sister from sinking into the dour moods their father was rumored to suffer.

They were both skilled and seasoned soldiers, having been raised in a large and accomplished military family. Sying was an excellent swordswoman, favoring the sword and shield whenever possible. Yuying was more comfortable keeping her distance in a fight, favoring the bow or crossbow.

“Sy, Yui, When you have a moment please.” Dusk said as she approached the practice area, standing outside the ring and being careful not to let her dress brush the thick, dust covered rope hanging in a circle about the practice area.

The sisters paused in their block and parry drill and approached the imposing mare, taking off their helmets and revealing their fur stuck to their heads with the sweat of a long session.

“Yes, Dusk?” Sying asked as she approached, helmet under her arm. She was, as she often was, formal in her speech and posture, while her sister contented herself to listening.

The sisters were comfortable the tall half-unicorn mare and they respected one another as equals. Rank, while established here, was only acknowledged in a polite manner. Other estates, other holdings, far more rigidly observed these stations. Dusk explained to them about the trip and the region they were to be visiting and the sisters listened closely. Dusk was always amused at how different the sisters were, Sying was as serious as her father, stolid with guarded humor, usually relaxed only with her sister. Yuying, on the other hand, was as upbeat and cheerful as you could imagine any young woman could be.

“A banquet?” Yuying delighted, “Oh goddesses that’ll be amazing. Sy we’ll have to go see Wisp about dresses.”

“Of course we will.” Sying said darkly, the acid tone utterly lost on her exuberant sister.

“Don’t fret, Sying.” Dusk had to suppress a chuckle at the sudden difference between the two red pandas’ expressions. “This is a frontier fortress we’ll be at, not an Imperial ball, I suspect you might even be able to wear pants without causing a scandal.”

There is only so much warmth that long banners and tapestries can give to a slate grey fortress of stone and steel. The low and wide castle that was the Northern edge of Clan Marwen’s holdings was built first and foremost as the central stone upon which any other clan seeking to seize power would break. Once their clan had allied itself with the empire and become the northernmost border of the empire’s holdings, imperial solars had been invested into making this keep the northern bastion. Clans allied with Clan Marwen had benefited from the stability of the fortress there as well as the surrounding city acting as a trade hub for the northern reaches. The empire had, in a remarkably short length of time, built the northern stretch of the railroad through the mountains and provided their new province access to the trains that had already become the arteries of the slowly growing empire.

Partran and his retinue had arrived two days before the banquet and had been installed in a small house along a side road of the city’s Imperial district. In this low and wide valley ringed in the distance by mountains that were capped with snow year round, the castle crouched like a prowling animal. The village that had quickly grown up within the guarding walls did little to hide the stark edifice along which guards and golems marched. As their carriage approached the gates of the keep Partran, Dusk, and the sisters watched the austere buildings lit with the honey-colored light of sunset cast their long shadows and lights along streets, as lanterns in houses began to replace the quickly dwindling autumn sun.

“They’ve done an unbelievable amount of work in the past few years.” Dusk said as she looked out the window, the fading day’s light catching the dark blue of her gown and the silver accents she’d tastefully worn for this.

“It’s amazing what thousands of solars and the artificers guild being pressed to provide the golems for construction can accomplish.” Partran was busy adjusting his cravat as he stared out the small window in the side of the carriage. He was dressed in a well cut suit of somber black with gold embroidery and red at the cuffs and collar. His heavy ruby pendant lay like a slightly out of place accessory and his fur shone with a light brushing of oil. His green eyes were fixed on the long, nearly perfectly straight streets as their carriage, among many others, made its way along the main street.

“Why is it so... dull?” Yuying asked asked as she glanced along the street, seeking the rare signs of the strangely absent color or culture of the northern clans. There were hints here and there, support beams of buildings with some carving, an old stone statue standing in front of a shop, but the buildings were almost all so new and clean and very plain.

Dusk considered this, turning to Sying and Yuying. Wisp had done his job well, Yuying wore a lovely gown in autumnal colors and subtle gold embroidery that brought out her lush coat. In her hair was a silk flower whose blue-green hue caught her eyes and matched the jewelry she wore. Her sister, on the other hand, with her short cropped hair and the sleek lines of leather carefully tailored and similarly dyed as Yuying, looked like some no-nonsense heroine from a minstrel’s song. Her only adornments were a pair of gold and amber earrings and a pendant of stars. Sying’s sword lay on the floor beneath their seat and Dusk was certain that somewhere on her person that Yuying had at least a couple of concealed weapons should the lord’s guards somehow not be sufficient protection.

She said, “The city’s been built, in no small part, by the golems from the empire. While they are amazing at working quickly and accurately they lack any kind of ability for creative work. I suspect over the next few years the people living here will do their best to make these shops and houses truly their own. Most of the golem construction was along the main roads. The residential districts are still under construction as people move in and, of course, any of the nobles simply must have their homes built to their personal specifications.”

Yuying nodded and gave a small frown as she turned her gaze back out the window, watching the houses roll past as the carriage drew near the great looming fortress. As she did so, Partran reached into the inner pocket of his vest and withdrew the small note that had been delivered earlier in the day and, though having read it several times already, once more let his eyes fall on the careful script of Lady Marwen.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

It had been some hours earlier when Partran stood at the top of the stairs, faintly annoyed at a cuff link that refused cooperate as he listened to Dusk’s faintly exasperated voice in the next room.

“There is no possible way to make your shield an acceptable accessory for tonight. Were you in full armor that might be allowed but the sword alone is only acceptable because of your position as a bodyguard. Anything else would be implying that the lord’s protection isn’t sufficient.”

This had been a low level argument for the last few days, out of habit and amusement now than any real teeth.

“Careful, Dusk, Sy might take that to mean she can choose the chainmail and breastplate instead.” This was Yuying, the younger of the pair, “I’m still disappointed you wouldn’t let Wisp make you something more appropriate.”

Sying must have been ignoring this Partran thought as he tugged his vest straight and looked in the long mirror at the top of the stairs. He paused for a moment then adjusted his collar.

“She’s dedicated to her job.” He said, confident that his bassy rumble would carry through the closed door.

“Thank you!” Came Sying’s response as the tiger began down the stairs. “See? Dedicated. Not drab.”

The conversation dulled into a muted mumble as Partran walked down the carpeted stairs, the tiger pleased with the accommodations despite the rush that Lady Marwen must have been in to arrange so much in the last few months. As he reached the bottom of the stairs the bell for the door jangled on its spring and, as the rest of the staff were occupied, stooped through a low doorway to open the door himself.

Even in early afternoon the autumn wind rolling down from the surrounding mountains was tinged with frost. As the tiger opened the door, he inhaled the clean sharp air and looked out into an empty courtyard of immaculately kept grass apparently devoid of anyone to ring the bell. Then his gaze turned downwards. Standing, bundled in a heavy woolen cloak and hood was, as best Partran could tell, an otter. She stood there, small and alone on the porch, clutching to her breast a small folded butter colored envelope with a wax seal pressed to it. As she looked up... then looked further up, she gave a small gasp at the door being answered not by a servant like herself but a vast and looming tiger, the very lord she’d been sent to give a message to. With an embarrassed squeak, she thrust up her paw with the letter in it and the words came out in a startled rush, “Sir, Lord Partran, my Lady Marwen wished for me to deliver this letter to you.”

From his lofty height, the tiger smiled down at the suddenly tense otter, her brown eyes fixated on the large predator and her whiskers out in a poof around her short muzzle. He put his hands on his knees as he crouched slowly down, his green eyes on hers. Her paw trembled faintly until he reached a gloved hand out and took it delicately from her, “Thank you, little one.” He gave her a warm smile, seeking to reassure her, then he turned his gaze down to the folded letter, turning it to reveal Lady Marwen’s seal. When he looked up Verona gave a quick curtsy, then scampered away along the round stones of the walkway.

Partran crouched there for a moment, letter in his hand, watching the small otter nearly bolt out of the yard. Puzzled he stared after her, then he heard hoofsteps behind him and Dusk’s voice, “What was that, sir?”

“A message from Lady Marwen, it seems, and a nervous little otter messenger.”

Dusk looked out around Partran but couldn’t catch a glimpse of said courier, so turned to the tiger as he stood. “What’s in it?”

The tiger handed the letter to Dusk to open so he wouldn’t need remove his gloves. She carefully broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter, recognizing the careful script of Lady Marwen. She looked questioningly at the tall feline.

“Go ahead, my glasses are upstairs.”

_Lord Partran Madradin,_

_I must apologize for how vague my previous letter was and thank you for your indulgence of both my caution and my invitation. Should a more candid letter earlier have been seen by those not intended, there could have been unfortunate repercussions._

_Tonight, as the banquet_ _’s celebrations and entertainments proceed, I would ask of you a service as a surrogate. The secrecy that I have had to employ in arranging this is due to the culture of my husband’s people, the lupine and ursine clans of the north. They do not follow the customs we do as cosmopolitan members of the Empire. They attach great significance to birth and bloodline and to allow another to sire a child you then claim as your own invites challenges of succession._

_After ten years Lord Marwen and I have been unable to sire a son or daughter of our own. In order to make less treacherous his rivals here in the north, I have sought your aid. I know the nature of your amulet. I know some of what a dragon_ _’s blood stone is capable of and pray you believe me when I say that no one, save I and my maid, know anything of the matter. I offer you this, a payment for surrogate fathering equal to the most sought after surrogates in the capital, the book in which I discovered the information of your bauble, all of my notes regarding it, and my secrecy unto the grave._

_As I write the above I feel compelled to tell you that I have not informed Lord Marwen of this scheme. The deception is painful to me, but he is, at times, far too noble for his own good. Were he aware that the pup I hope you shall provide were not his own, he would feel compelled to make it known. This would mean the end of his line and call into question his fitness for leadership. The clans will not tolerate a chieftain without an heir for much longer._

_Whilst he and I both enjoy our occasional trysts and tumbles of lovers beyond our marriage, this would too far. I beg for your discretion in this matter and to allow my husband to keep his honor and face among allies and rivals alike. Tonight, after the banquet and with the entertainment as a distraction, I will arrange to meet you in a secluded place in the castle._

_ -Lady Liana Marwen_

“Well... That explains a lot.” He said dryly, giving the unicorn mare a look, “What would happen were Lord Marwen to not have an heir?”

“If he has no heirs then perhaps his cousins or nieces and nephews in other clans would claim they had the right to the leadership of his, or those in his clan with rank could fight for the leadership. It would cause a great deal of turmoil and, most likely, result in the resurrection of clan feuds. Before the castle, it’d be small scale skirmishes and eventually they’d work it out. But now? With the empire here? I’d say it’s most likely that there would be a bloody war and instead of Clan Marwen the empire would send a legion north to take the castle and make vassals of the clans. Lord and Lady Marwen did an almost bloodless job of brokering what this city’s become. It’s left the clans untouched and able to proceed as they have for centuries and the empire’s able to expand here without having to invest time conquering it. There’s clan leaders who don’t like it, but Lord Marwen’s respected or feared enough by the clans to have an immense amount of influence.”

The tiger considered this for a time, pulling his gloved fingers along the black lines of his chin, he was enjoying the contrast of the warmth of the sun and the chill of the air here on the patio and was trying to digest the information.

“So... I trade my silence and a service to the lady wolf of the north for secrecy, a book, a fee, and keeping the empire from another war? All while preserving the ways of the indigenous clans?”

There was a long moment of silence as Dusk, tactfully, said nothing. Her own parentage was a mark of shame for her, but, unlike the potential offspring of Lady Marwen, she wore her shame plain to see. As long as the few who knew this secret kept it, the child could be raised as a noble and as the son of a good man.

The tiger turned to head back into the house and up the stairs, “Then I suppose I should prepare accordingly.”

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Dusk and Partran now stood in the immense ballroom, Sying and Yuying on either side of them, as they savored the warmth of the fires in the long hearths along the side walls. The large room was hung with fine drapery in autumn colors. The tiger was quiet, though, only making a few greetings and small talk with the scant few guests he recognized. They had entered amid the procession of guests and all had been ushered into the ballroom where servants plied them with drinks.

The guests made idle talk and indulged in the drinks and hors d’oeuvres that were brought about by the servants until the tall doors leading into the great hall opened to the sound of rolling drums, and Lord and Lady Marwen stepped forth. The lord of Clan Marwen, almost as tall as Partran, towered alongside his relatively diminutive wife. Lord Marwen, a broad shouldered and heavily built grey wolf was dressed in a finely tailored doublet and solid color emerald green kilt that befitted his clan and status. His long, blocky muzzle was brushed and despite the fine grooming his fur lay at odd angles in places hinting at scars beneath. Beside this picture of immense strength and feral nobility, Lady Marwen seemed the essence of elegant composure. She wore a long gown, wide at the hips, that would have been at home in emperor’s court. Her russet and black fur was a fine compliment to the rich crimson and burnished gold of her dress and jewelry. They were a stark contrast, the lord and his lady, he moved like an iceberg through a glass calm sea where she strode proudly beside him, her warm smile as intoxicating as the sweet wine Partran had managed to pluck from a passing servant’s tray.

They walked forward into the crowd as it parted before them, leaving a growing open circle around the pair. Approaching the center of the immense ball room, they stopped and Lady Marwen began to speak.

“Lords and Ladies of the Empire, Chieftains and champions of the clans, Masters and Mistresses of art and trades, welcome to this celebration of harvest and hearth. We thank you for accepting our invitation for this banquet and harvest celebration. We wish to treat you to the bounty of the northlands and the hospitality of both our peoples. Soon our servants will show you to your places within the dining hall and then a night of feasting and entertainment can begin in earnest. May the goddesses bless you all as they have blessed us this year.”

She spoke as someone intimately familiar with each and every guest, a strong and clear voice as her husband stood beside her silently. It was only as she finished speaking, turning to look over the crowd of her guests, did she finally meet eyes with the tiger. It was only an instant, a fractured sliver of a second, but her pause was real and her composure had, for the briefest flicker, faltered.

Soon, Partran and his retinue were led to the long wooden table they were assigned by a slim young buck in olive green tunic and tan breeches. The deer’s hair was left long and tied behind his head in a pony tail with a green thong the same deep green as his tunic. Dusk covered a smile as the lad struggled a bit pulling the heavy, over sized chair out from the table for Partran but she was polite enough to hide her amusement.

The reason that guests at such functions were usually seated by servants was that, even here, the range of species dictated that special accommodations be made for a variety of sizes. While Partran was not the tallest nor largest guest in attendance, there had to be certain arrangements made.

Partran, Dusk, and the sisters sat along one side of the a vast banquet hall. Tall, square pillars of precision cut stone supported the peaked ceiling, and here were signs that craftsmen had been hard at work. While decoration had been notably absent from the city outside, the wooden beams that supported the ceiling arched from the stone pillars and were covered in beautifully carved scroll work. The undulating ribbons cut into the oaken beams had been painted in the deep greens and black of the Marwen colors and stood out framed by the oak and stone. Similarly colored banners hung from the rafters and columns and made the vast hall feel cozy and helped to muffle the sound of such a large number of guests. The tables themselves were dark stained oak polished to a shine and in a few places they had been stacked on atop one another to suit the height of a large guest. They lay with dark green cloth and gold trim atop each and were bountiful with a variety of nuts and cheeses to keep the guests busy until the actual meal began. At each of the forward tables, those closest to the raised dais upon which Lord and Lady Marwen stood behind their own table, a large silver goblet stood empty.

“That goblet is for a ceremony, it’s to remain empty until then.” Dusk whispered at Partran’s elbow, having been looking at the place settings for them all. Smaller cups were also on the table and were already full. The tiger took note of Dusk’s words, curious now as he eyed the cast silver goblet with its vine wrapped base its fared rim gleaming in the lamp light.

During the procession of guests and guides, a troupe of gamboling weasels and ferrets, dressed in loose, brightly colored scarves and little else, traipsed and bounded from table to table. The lithe acrobats tumbled and leapt from chair to tabletop without so much as overturning a single cheese plate and the only nuts jostled were their own. Between their acrobatic stunts they spared brief moments flirting lasciviously with one another or lucky guests. Along the upper row of tables two male otters performed an impressive leap towards one another and, cartwheeling in mid-air, missed each other by a hair’s breadth to land almost precisely where the other had began their stunt. This drew a gasp and a cheer as even Lord Marwen, with booming laughter, joined in. Beneath these antics, at the edge of hearing, light music filtered in from the ballroom where the musicians had begun to play quietly, preparing for the rest of their busy evening.

At last, all of the guests had been led to their seats and the great wolf lord raised a heavy, polished drinking horn inlaid with gold in preparation for a toast. This signaled the endearing entertainers to slip from the tables and disappear out the side doors for the time being. The lord and lady’s table stood at one end of the hall, with the guests’ tables arranged in two concentric half circles facing them. Between the first row of guests tables and the Lord’s table was an open space for musicians or entertainers should they return during the actual meal. The lord and lady could, from their raised platform, see all of their guests and be seen and heard similarly.

Once their guests had been seated Lord Marwen turned to his wife leaned to murmur something to her. She raised one hand to his cheek and kissed him briefly before he straightened and his rich, thunderous voice echoed through the hall, “Welcome honored guests of Clan Marwen, sit and be at ease. Avail yourself of my family’s hospitality and let us celebrate a rich autumn harvest among allies, friends, and even rivals. Until dawn you are all Clan Marwen, welcome and be at ease.” He drank from the curled horn and then passed it to his wife who carefully took the large horn in both hands and drank from it as well before turning to step from the platform they stood upon.

Lady Marwen gracefully descended from the platform to where two servants were waiting with pitchers of wine. In her husband’s clans it was the role of the matron of the house to welcome guests and fill the first cups. Gracious and elegant Liana walked to the first of the tables with the large silver goblet and spoke quietly to the guest as she poured it and offered them the cup. This custom had married well with the empire’s customs so that the lady of the house, or lord should the lady be of higher rank, would, accompanied by servants, take wine to guests of honor and speak with them at their seats. This afforded the lady ample opportunity to speak with special guests and to still satisfy the clan’s traditions.

Dusk watched with interest as the Countess spoke and smiled politely to each guest in turn as she walked along the tables. As she approached their table, Dusk cleared her throat to draw Partran’s attention away from where the acrobats had begun to come back into the room and sauntered towards the open space before the lord’s table. The tiger shifted slightly beside the mare and sat upright, turning to the lady of the manor as she gave a slight bow to one of the acrobats who, while scantily clad in silks, had managed to produce a silk flower for her without it being readily apparent where the scoundrel had pulled it from. Graciously she paused in her walk between tables to stoop and kiss the small male on the cheek. Melodramatically he stumbled back as though unable to stand, raising a paw to his cheek and swooning into the arms of another acrobat who fanned him to chuckles from the guests and lady alike.

Smiling, she stood and handed the flower to a familiar servant who waddled behind her, the otter lass who had delivered the letter earlier in the day. She she blushed as Lady Marwen slipped the flower into her hair and they shared a smile before Lady Marwen continued towards the tiger’s table.

“Ah, Lord and Master Alchemist Madradin.” Lady Marwen said in a rich, satin voice as she approached. “I must thank you for traveling so far to be here and accepting the hospitality of our home and hearth.” She was genuine in her greeting, but there was apprehension in her voice.

Partran dipped his head and rumbled, “A trifling distance, Lady Marwen, your invitation would have had me cross the boiling sea itself.”

She chuckled at this, taking a pitcher from the wolf lad who had been following her and stepped forward to pour it into the silver cup. “Flatterer.” She accused in jest, “But I am glad you made it and hope my maid Verona was helpful earlier.” She righted the pitcher and turned to hand it to the otter maid, now known to be Verona, and took the cup in both hands and, in her almost concealed nervousness, took a bit more than a polite sip from it before offering it to the tiger as she had other cups to other guests.

“We thank you for your hospitality, and please, be at ease.” The tiger’s smile was warm and genuine, his huge hand briefly covering hers as he took the cup from her and dank from it as he’d seen the others do and then set it back on the table. She nodded and gave a bow of her head and stepped to the next table, the momentary gesture having at least helped still the moment of panic.

Dusk and Partran watched as she departed and then he offered the half-unicorn the remainder of the cup.

“It’s excellent wine.” He said as the mare took the goblet, watching Lady Marwen go and then catching small Verona’s glance. He smiled at the otter maid and was pleased at her blush and sudden turn away.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Liana trembled as she walked away from the tiger and his servant. He was immense, larger still than her own husband and the ache she felt as her heat had set in made it difficult for her to focus. There was shame there, a tiny hint of it along the edge of her plans and, she had to admit it, her desire. Were she not intending to have the tiger as stud for her child she’d still likely attempt to entice him anyway. She and her husband both occasionally made sport with guests and there was something about large cats that she’d always found enticing. She visited the last few tables and their respective guests, this time only tasting the wine before handing them the goblet, lest she find herself unable to think clearly later in the night. All the while, behind her, Verona had another pitcher of wine ready for when her mistress would need it. She greeted and welcomed the last of the more important guests, and, in a slowly growing dampness she was glad her long gown concealed, returned to her seat beside her husband.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Once the feast had begun in earnest Dusk relaxed some, letting the event itself fill most of the space in her mind, she periodically pointed out people to her Master or leaned and whispered to the sisters. Yuying would periodically vanish to talk to one of the entertainers or to pursue some tray laden with a treat she had particular interest in. Her sister, on the other hand, kept close and watched the crowd, enjoying her meal but also refraining from more than a token amount of wine.

As the last course was brought forth, roasted fruits and confections, the doors into the great hall were opened and the sounds of music, more up tempo than before, began to filter out. It was at this point that Partran heard a small sound behind him. Turning in his seat he first saw no one there, then glanced down and smiled as a replay of this morning’s earlier meeting seemed to be at hand.

“Aha, the petite messenger again.” He said with a slow smile, turning fully and leaning down to be closer to eye level with the plump otter maid who’d delivered the sealed letter earlier that day. “Are you having an enjoyable evening, Verona?”

The cheerful otter gave the much larger tiger a nervous smile, unconsciously twisting the white apron on the front of her dark skirt in her nervousness. “Yes, sir.” She chirped as her short muzzle sent whiskers out in a puff around her round black nose when she smiled. The woman looking plain compared to so many of the well and oft over dressed here and hardly came up to the tiger’s thigh were he standing, but stood straight and proud and looked up at him with the hem of her apron in her webbed paws. “The lady has asked that you go to the ballroom once the dinner is over and that she will find you there.”

“Aha, thank you, little one. I would ask for a favor, though.” The tiger rumbled as he leaned down to whisper to the overawed otter. “That you might be so kind as to grace me with a dance before the night is too far gone.”

Verona, no young maiden at her first harvest festival, actually stood shocked for a moment that a lord, that THIS lord, would ask her to dance. She blushed as though she were fifteen years younger, then smiled broadly, her brown eyes alight, “If that’s what you would like, sir.”

“It is. Now let your lady know I shall join her in the ballroom after dinner as she requests.”

The otter dipped a curtsy then turned, thick tail just shy of dragging the floor, and walked away as briskly as her long frame and squat legs would allow her. She turned her head to glance back at Partran as the tiger gave her a wink.

After a moment Sying’s chided gently, “That was shameful. Teasing her like that. And she doesn’t even know it.”

“Who was teasing? I’ve every intention of dancing with her before anything else. Just because I am here as a contractor, as it were, doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy some of the festivities.”

Dusk watched the large tiger who was smiling to himself for a moment, wondering what he was thinking, then turned to the roasted apples and whipped cream that had appeared before her. In time, as the guests found themselves thoroughly sated with the clan’s delightful fare, the great doors back into the ballroom opened and strains of a captivating dance seemed to weave its way into the banquet hall. The acrobats, having been providing entertainment during the meal itself, took this invitation as an opportunity to excuse themselves from the hall. In small groups many of the guests meandered from the banquet hall towards the ball room while others contented themselves with their dinner companions or pursuing some sweet delight they had yet to have their fill of.

The guards, however, were industrious in the space before the lord and lady’s raised dias, putting together a small sparring area. A huge rope, easily eight inches across, was lain in a circle and the racks of practice weapons were drawn from a large door at the back of the hall to be arranged alongside. Partran glanced to see Sying watching this with a keen interest.

“Do you want to go knock some heads, Sy?” He asked, rising slowly from his chair and offering Dusk a hand from her seat. “I suspect you wouldn’t be terribly interested in dancing and I doubt I’ll be waylaid between here and the waltz.”

Sying pried her eyes from the practice ring as it were being situated to look up at the tiger and then glance around the room as though there may be an ambush hiding behind the table of trifles. After a moment she said, “Only if you’re sure, sir.”

Partran chuckled, “I’m sure.” He made a waving motion with his paw and said, “You two are free to enjoy the evening. I suspect Dusk and I will be busy for a while. We’ll see you back at the house by morning.”

Yuying, thrilled to hear they were being given the night off, rose quickly from her seat and took her stolid sister by the wrist. “Come on, Sy, let’s go before he changes his mind.”

Dusk and Partran watched the two head over to watch as the first guards entered the ring with wooden swords. Seeing them go, the unicorn mare tilted her head up towards Partran, “Is that wise?”

“Maybe. They’ll definitely cause a stir among the combatants and Lord Marwen is in the crowd. He looks to be as interested in dancing as Sy is.”

Dusk glanced up at the lord and lady’s table, seeing that they had slipped away as well, at least Lady Marwen had. Lord Marwen had moved to where he could sit comfortably and watch the combatants begin their bout. She conceding this as she turned her attention towards the ballroom and the guests entering into the honey colored light therein. Music rolled from the room, a long languid tune as a few couples already danced slowly about the floor in one of the currently in fashion dances of the empire. So she and the lord tiger entered the line trickling into the room. He stopped momentarily once they crossed the threshold to glance about before his eyes found the lady of the keep currently speaking with a knot of gaudily dressed attendees. Pausing long enough to catch her eye, he turned to where a servant stood with wine and took a small glass of red wine. Then, for the moment, he and Dusk watched the dancers and the somberly dressed musicians.

“There she is.” Dusk said, gently nudging the tiger’s hip and nodding her ebon horn towards where the lady stood amid a ring of gathered guests. The tiger sipped his wine and watched one particular robust ursine woman step forward and give the Lady Marwen a courtly bow. From where he stood the conversation was lost in the susurration of the crowd and music, but a momentary lift of hand to muzzle and a faint show of bashfulness that seemed to be more ritual than real, Lady Marwen extended her hand to the considerably larger bear woman and was soon whisked into the twirling throng. Not to be outdone, Partran handed his half finished glass of wine to Dusk and stalked along the outer edge of the crowd from whence the Lady Marwen had so recently been abducted.

The sharp sounds of Dusk’s hooves on the floor were almost lost amid the waltz being played as she hurried to keep up with the tiger, pausing only for a moment to set his wine glass on the tray of a surprised stag servant as she dashed by. Her dress fluttering, she pursued to tiger and found him stalking along the outer edge of the room just in time for her to see who his intended “prey” was.

Unaware of the predator that bore down upon her, the otter Verona stood demurely near the musicians where her Lady had so recently been abducted by the madam bruin. Her simple black dress allowed her to blend well into the scenery, though there were those in attendance that wouldn’t see a servant if they were ablaze and standing immediately before them. Such was the way of the nobles. Yet the tiger seemed to emerge from the crowd, striding forward towards the small woman who stiffened as she saw the sudden appearance of so large a predator. With a squeak she once more clutched the edge of her apron and stared wide-eyed as the massive predator stopped and with a theatrical flourish bowed low, hand out and palm up towards her.

“Miss Verona, it would be the greatest honor were you to favor me with a dance this evening.”

The otter, wide eyed from the moment the tiger had emerged from the crowd and bowed in, what she’d later feel was the most regal fashion she’d ever seen, simply stared and her mouth fell open. Verona stood there, half drawn back in startlement and half in dumbfounded shock. She was unable to find the words for a moment as the tiger, still leaning forward and massive paw outstretched, waited amid a ring of amused onlookers.

Around the pair heads turned and the musicians almost lost their time as they seemed to enjoy the melodrama before them. Their audience grew quiet as they waited for an answer, caught upon the edge of the maid’s decision. Verona stood there in shock, the center of much more attention than she was used to, and then softly squeaked out, “Yes...?” Her breath seemed far away and hard to catch as her heart fluttered from the moment. Then she reached her small, webbed paw out and laid it in the immense open palm of the tiger. For one brief moment she imagined herself as a kit, dancing with her dolls, imagining herself some great lady at a ball.

A few of the audience, similarly taken up by the moment, clapped and chuckled in amusement as Partran took the smaller woman’s hand in his vastly larger paw and guided the diminutive, plump mustelid towards the dance floor. With their striking differences in size the tiger had to lean down as she stepped briskly to keep up, her well made but simple black dress flapping about her short legs and thick tail. Soon there they were, the mismatched pair, joining others in the measured, twirling rotation of a slow waltz. Of course, accommodations had to be made and she rested her hand on his hip and he held her small webbed paw in his own hand as they not quite glided across the dance floor. Her dark dress fluttered as she had to vault to keep in time with the other dancers, his strong paws lifting her so that her feet would lightly touch the floor and then she would spring and be carried to the next position in the dance. She could feel the wind stream her hair behind her and she glanced up to see his big, green eyes and broad smile and she thrilled. Her heart battered in her chest and she felt breathless, lost in the moment as she was carried and felt like she had wings.

From where Verona had been so blissfully kidnapped Dusk glanced to Lady Marwen where she was dancing with a similar disparity in size between her and the mountainous, white bear woman. The unicorn mare smiled when the red wolf saw her maid dancing with the tiger, face registering shock and amusement when it could glimps the mismatched pair from around the happily twirling bruin. Soon, though, the musicians softened the music and the dance slowly came to an end, dancers seeking new partners or a respite and drink. Partran and Verona soon joined Dusk once more, the otter flushed and covering her short muzzle with both small paws. Her face was a mix of delight and furious red embarrassment.

Before the shock could overwhelm her, the mock chiding tone of Lady Marwen drew her attention, “Verona, you scandalous woman, you. Are you trying to seduce young lordlings with your feminine charms?” The playfully tone made Verona turn suddenly and, for half a moment,fear her Lady might be serious. The momentary concern was dispelled as, taking her leave of the ursine, Lady Marwen approached with a fond smile down at her flushed and still speechless maid.

“No, m’lady.” Verona said, frantically trying to compose herself, “Lord... Lord Partran asked me to dance and I thought it’d be rude to say no.”

“It would have been.” Partran said as he crouched and took one of Verona’s small paws away from her muzzle and kissed the back of it. “I’d have been deeply saddened to have not had the chance to dance with the second loveliest creature in the castle. I thank you once again for the lovely dance” He stood then and smiled, turning to face Lady Marwen as he straightened his vest and cravat.

“Well, you do flatter freely, don’t you Lord Madradin?” Liana approached the tiger and extended a hand to him. He took her delicate paw and kissed the back of it, whiskers fluffing out to the sides as he caught the faint scent of her heat almost totally masked under the scent of her perfume. Her recent exertion had driven the spicy scent to the forefront this close to her. “It’s a pleasure to have an opportunity to speak with you properly.” She took back her hand and caught the eye of a green garbed servant boy, motioning for a drink. She then turned her attention to Dusk, “You must be his steward. A pleasure to meet you as well...?” The question trailed off, inviting Partran to finish the introduction.

“Dusk.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Dusk.” There was the merest flick of Liana’s eyes to the bowed black horn that stood from Dusk’s silken mane before she continued. “I wish that we had time to talk at length, but I suspect my dance card will be very full tonight. Please, both of you, do let Verona show you my hospitality.” As she said this a grey muzzled badger in a coat ten years out of fashion waddled up towards them, smiling and squinting through thick spectacles at Lady Marwen. She nodded pointedly towards her maid who, after a moment, realized that was a veiled order. With a delighted greeting towards the elderly man, Liana took her leave of the three, “Ah! Master Windhall, I’m so glad you could make it.”

As Lady Marwen stepped quickly away to greet another guest, Partran glanced at Dusk vainly for the unfinished wine he’d entrusted to her, then Verona cleared her throat politely and said. “If Sir and Madam would like, I could show you to a quiet place to relax after.”

Taking the cue, Partran and Dusk followed Verona, slipping unnoticed from the ballroom as the musicians began to thump their feet on the floor in time to an impending jig and Lady Marwen fussed over the elderly badger as though they were old friends.

————————————————————————

Yuying held Sy’s wrist and half pulled her towards the ring of people already eagerly watching the first of the sparring bouts, the clatter of the wooden sword on shield sharp peaks over the sound of the audience. As they found a place to watch from, the first bout came to a close with a tall thin wolf losing his sword to a cleverly executed disarm from a shorter, grizzled older wolf. The older wolf smirked at the younger wolf who raised his hands in surrender as the wooden weapon was pointed at him.

“I yield.” The younger wolf said.

“Damn right ya do.” The elder growled as he lowered his sword, “And you better learn to hold onto your weapon or someone’ll gut you.” With that he turned and walked out of the ring, handing his sword and shield to another guard who was waiting his turn.

The younger of the two, abashed from his disarm and defeat, looked around and, not immediately seeing someone to take his place in the circle, called out, “Are there any among you who wish to try your skill against the finest warriors of Clan Marwen?”

There came some muttering of people trying to goad their friends into trying, until, without hesitation, a strong voice called out, “I will!”

There was a moment of confusion as the young wolf looked at the crowd and then glimpsed the person who had spoken up. The mutterings of urgings in the crowd turned to quiet chuckles as the comparatively diminutive red panda stood defiantly, hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Subtle...” Yuying whispered to Sying as the young guard approached.

“You think you can stand in the ring before the best warriors of the clan?” The tall wolf’s voice was questioning but amused, waiting for a punch line that Yuying knew he wouldn’t like.

“Yes. And ten solars if I lose to your best warrior.” Sying looked at the older wolf who had just left the ring, dying to see better that maneuver he’d used to disarm the wolf standing in front of him. The crowd oohed and ahh’ed appreciatively at this, Sying still stony faced and serious in the face of the young guard’s amusement. It seemed for a moment that he was expecting one of the more senior guards to be playing a trick on him.

“She really does have to be the best. It drives her.” Yuying cut in, with an apologetic smile to the cute young guardsman, “Don’t take it personally.”

There was a prolonged silence as the guard, still holding sword and shield, looked from Sying to the waiting guard who’d stepped into the ring after the last match.

“That, young lady, would be me.” The voice came from across the ring but deep and rumbling enough as though it’d come from the stones beneath Sying’s feet. The bass rumble belonged to Lord Marwen and he strode to the edge of the ring, to see the young lady who had boldly wagered coin against his clan’s best. “Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

“I am Khiong Yuying, personal guard to Lord Partran Madradin of Winterrock.”

The towering wolf lord looked at the small red and umber woman in her leathers, hand still perched on the hilt of her sword, and gave her a hard stare for a long moment. The faintest twitch of his ears at her name. “Well then, Khiong Yuying, I accept your wager. However, tonight’s festivities will not be with bare steel. Please entrust your sword to your companion and pick which weapons you would care to use.”

—————————————————————————————————————————————————-

A few minutes later Yuying stood at the edge of the sparring ring, watching her sister tighten the strap on a metal banded wooden shield. She held Sying’s fine steel blade, sheathed, in both hands as she leaned to murmur to her stubborn sister.

“He’s a lot bigger than you.”

“I know.”

“He’s stronger, too.”

“I know.”

“Got reach.”

Sying stopped as she was adjusting her shield, turning to give her sister a scathing look, “And what is your point?”

Yuying grinned at her sister’s scowl, “Bet he’s hung.”

Sying’s face was briefly shocked then she shook her head, “Oh gods, are you saying I should bed him?”

“Well it would wear him out, get his guard down and all that.”

The two sisters stared at one another for a moment before Yuying chuckled and pointed towards the padded helmet beside Sying, “Be careful, Sy, I don’t need him killing you in a practice match. I’m not sure dad would forgive me.”

Sying paused in her preparations to put the padded leather helmet on and flick her ears out the openings at the top, it fit a bit awkwardly since they were for a canine, then shifted her shoulders, rolling them as she felt the weight of the shield on her arm and reached to pick up the wooden sword. It was a bit longer than her usual sword but it was straight and had a good weight. She gave the weapon a couple swings through the air and, with a slight adjustment on the grip, felt confident with it. Finally she walked to where her sister stood and lifted her chin, letting Yuying adjust the helmet a bit more. Yuying, with a serious expression, whispered in her ear, “He’s got a bit of a limp on his left, could be the cold or it could be an old injury.”

Sy turned and shifted her weight, seeing now Lord Marwen in his training leathers. Thick pads of armor covered his towering frame, imposingly built despite the grey on his muzzle. Against her sword and shield he brought a pair of curved wooden swords, custom built to match his real weapons of choice, most likely.

“To the touch?” She asked as she walked into the ring, spine straight and chin up in a challenge.

“To the first killing stroke.” He said, clarifying the rules for the bout as he walked towards her as well, raising both blades into a forward position. It would, then, be that the first serious strike would count as the kill and not merely counting points as if fencing. Sying raised her shield slightly extended and waited to see the lord’s assault.

With speed like a sudden avalanche, the wolf lunged forward, not just with a single stroke but keeping one blade following the other so that a single deflected blow would have another immediately following it to worry about.

Sying angled her shield to drive the blow not into her body to let it glance to the side. It was a rookie mistake to think of the shield as a wall to slam against and allowing that to happen often resulted in injuring the defender almost as much as an unguarded strike. Turning the blade with the angle of the shield allowed her to make the first swing interfere with his reach on the second and he had to step quickly back to avoid her driving hard with her straight blade into his gut.

Down and again he swung, using his reach to force her to shift to the side. Her boots were light on the smooth stone and she led him in a circle. While he’d almost certainly fought smaller opponents his entire life and had a great deal more time in the battlefield, it was unlikely he’d been taught by so rigorous a tutor as her father.

He led the assault more than she, her eyes watching him carefully and deflecting his blows. When she saw an opening she’d thrust her straight blade towards it only to have it knocked away forcefully enough to force her to have to readjust. No good. His reach was his greatest asset here. Biding her time, she anticipated his next swing and instead of leaning it away with her shield she sprang forward and drove the metal rimmed edge of her shield into his forearm with a crack muffled by the leather. His arm was up over the shield and while his torso was out of reach, her center was exposed to the following cut he had intended to make. She instead brought her sword up to smash into the wrist of his other hand as he sought to capitalize on the opening her shield jab had given him. The force was enough to jar the heavy wooden sword free and it clattered to the floor. While she had probably not broken any bones, his arm would ache for days after. Barely pausing, he slid his forward foot back and brought his other sword around, off of her shield in a returning swing. She was able to twist back in time, but still received a resounding smack of the flat of the sword to her thigh. Sying staggered to the side under the impact, his reach and strength were not to be trifled with.

The pair pulled apart and survyed the changed situation. She stood between him and his second sword and Lord Marwen’s hand tingled, half numb from the blow. He shook it and tried to get some life back into it but saw the solid stare of the red panda shield mistress and knew with only one sword his chances of getting in a killing stroke were much diminished.

“Were I a younger man I would try some foolish attempt to roll past you and retrieve my other sword.” He joked as they stared at one another, buying himself a little time. He HAD been foolish and she’d capitalized on the opening. He’d expected her to hide behind her shield not use it as much as a weapon as the sword was. “Your father didn’t shirk in teaching his daughters as well as his sons.”

Sying didn’t reply to this, instead her hard gaze just watched the older wolf, expecting cunning. From the outside of the ring Yuying’s chipper voice called to Lord Marwen, “Don’t take her silence as an insult, Lord. She is a dour lady when her sword is drawn.”

Lord Marwen’s eyes only flicked to Sying’s sister at the edge of the ring and he frowned softly. Here he was a soldier with decades of experience and this young bodyguard was making him look foolish. He hefted the remaining sword and made a feint, the shield coming into play as he’d seen her do before. This time he reached out and took hold of the metal banded edge of the shield, opposite from her sword arm, and hauled hard, jerking the smaller woman forward and off balance. This maneuver gave him an opportunity to pivot past her, barely avoiding the quick swing she took at him, and allowed him to retrieve his sword behind her.

Yuying watched this exchange, seeing Sy almost thrown to the side and regain her position as the wolf lord picked up his sword once more. The crowd reacted the reversals of fortune with gasps and shouts for both opponents. Another flurry of blows were exchanged and Yu could tell that Sy was trying to lead him to leave his weak leg open. Each time they traded hits one or the other came close to making a fatal touch only to find the other had responded just in time to prevent an end to their match.

Finally she saw an opening, Sying dropped to her knee, raising the shield again and as Lord Marwen stepped forward she drove the point of her blade hard into his knee in a kneeling lunge that, should she miss, would leave her open to a dozen different prosecutions. A sudden jarring along her arm and snarl of pain told her she’d hit the mark. The blow caused the wolf to crumple to one side, the old injury making his leg give way. Without losing a moment the smaller red panda spun the wooden sword up and then down onto the falling wolf’s chest, smacking hard enough to add to his fall and drive the breath from his lungs. Within the flashing of an instant the wolf’s mountainous fall and the blow made a clattering din that soon gave way to a silence of gasps and the grunt and, presumably, cursing in Lord Marwen’s native tongue.

Yuying, standing at the edge of the ring as silence washed the room, waited a few seconds before stepping across the heavy rope and into the ring as two of the lord’s men entered from the other side to check on the combatants.

Sying sank down by the wolf and panted, ears back but eyes still on the wolf laying on his back cursing in his growling tongue. Her sister and the two guards came near and she let Yuying help her to her feet.

“Are you alright, lord?” asked the elder of the two wolfs of his fallen chieftain. The younger one was giving Sying a dirty look as she and her sister went through similar motions of checking on one another.

“Yes, Banu, I’m alright. Just careless was all.” Lord Marwen was helped to his feet by his guards and he gritted his teeth as he tested that leg. “That damn knee again.” He waited until he was sure of his leg, though now limping considerably, then let his guardsman go and gave a small, pained bow. “Well done, Khiong Sying. I am bested in my own home.” He stood a bit straighter and raised a hand to the crowd, “Sying, bodyguard of Partran Madradin, daughter of General Tavar of the Iron Wall. No shame comes from losing to that bloodline.”

At the mention of Sy and Yu’s father’s name people in the crowd began to murmur to one another and gave the woman who’d just bested their host in a fight a more appreciative look. Khiong Tavar was well known even here in the northern territories. One of the empire’s great generals despite his small stature. Lord Marwen’s house guards now understood that the woman who’d just won a bout against their lord was no common bodyguard. With that said the lord motioned to his guards, doing his best to hide his limp, “By the winter’s chill, let us see some more fights, let us see who’s worthy of a hundred solars!”

The crowd gave a cheer and some of those who had been on the fence about sparring seemed persuaded by such a generous purse, even those among the clan guards started to move forward as a wolf in an ornate breastplate and finely woven cloak stepped forward. This wolf, clearly the captain of the guard, gave Lord Marwen a salute and then ordered people to line up and submit their names for the list of combatants. The lord nodded at this and watched for a moment, leaning on the younger of the two guards who had helped him up after their bout. He stood and, carefully testing that knee, walked to where the sisters stood nearby, waving away the young guard. “Go join them. I’m fine now lad.”

Amid the business of the crowd and the growing list of people partaking in the bouts, the wolf lord was able to limp over and sit near where Sying and Yuying stood, motioning both of the young women over. Sying, still rubbing the spot on her thigh where one of his blows had landed, and Yuying drew up chairs and sat with him, glancing as the captain of the guard was explaining the rules of the matches to follow.

“So you saw I had a weak knee, did you?” Lord Marwen’s question was gruff and his face expressionless as he looked down at the two smaller women sitting there, both turning to look up at him.

“My sister did, yes.” Sying said, raising her gaze up to meet the wolf, “She said you favored that leg some and I figured a good hit there might give me an opening.” She didn’t hesitate to stare back at the older male, not turning her gaze as she felt the subtle challenge to.

A long, tense moment seemed to stretch between the two as Yuying watched, hoping the wolf wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge or be sore when bested in front of his men.

“Some might say that wasn’t precisely sporting.”

“Maybe not,” Sying said, still meeting the massive male’s eyes, “But it was a fight, sir. And the only thing that matters in a fight is being the person who walks away.”

Once more that tense silence seemed to fill the space between them before wolf gave a chuckle, “Is that your father’s wisdom?” Lord Marwen gave a smile that cut through his feigned scowl, once more rubbing his knee. “But goddesses that does smart.”

“He always said that a fair fight is what the losing side hopes for, sir. Always fight from a position of strength and don’t overlook any potential advantage. As a combatant it’s my job to end a fight as quickly as possible with as little risk to myself or those I protect as possible. The rest is fluff.”

Lord Marwen nodded at this, “And what if you know that this year’s opponent may be next year’s ally against someone else? Defeating an enemy can draw resentment if your tactics are too brutal or merciless.”

Yuying cleared her throat and supplied, almost from rote, “Accomplish what is necessary to complete the objective, but limit excess damage if possible. Wasted effort and wasted resources can be costly in the future, a potential ally can be said to be a resource wasted if you act too harshly.”

Lord Marwen chuckled and motioned to a servant, having the boy bring over wine for the three of them “Excellent. Right from your father’s treatise. I suspect he drilled all of this into you and all your siblings over the years.”

“Yes, sir.” Said both sisters together. This drew a look from him that traveled from one to the other, then the lad returned with their goblets. Yuying and Sying took the wine when offered and tipped their head in thanks to the serving boy. For now, it seemed, the examination was over.

As they relaxed and sampled the wine the first sounds of the next match began and they all turned to watch a pair of guests flail at one another with practice sword and shield. Periodically during the bout either Sying or Lord Marwen would give a click of their tongue at some error in form or judgment that gave the opponent an opening. After a few such matches Lord Marwen found his cup was empty and the serving lad was nowhere to be seen.

“Would you both be interested in seeing the armory and training rooms we have? The daughters of such a storied general may have some insight as to the training and equipment I provide my own fighting men.”

The sisters exchanged a glance and then Sying nodded, “Of course, lord. I’d be happy to offer any help my expertise might provide.”

With that, the lord stood slowly, using his free hand to brace himself on a table, and turned to leave the hall. The sisters, after exchanging another curious glance, stood to follow him, leaving their cups, the clatter of practice weapons, and the sounds of the impromptu tournament behind them.

The three walked or limped briskly along the corridors down towards the courtyard, soon stepping out into the cutting chill of the autumn night. Their breath made clouds in the air as they crossed the smooth almost perfectly set flagstones of the courtyard towards a long, high roofed building whose great oaken doors loomed heavy and tall in the autumn night. High windows in the stone walls shone with dim ruddy light. The wolf opened one of the heavy double doors part way and a dim honey colored light cut a line across the dark flagstones. He motioned them to enter and followed in after them. The chill outside washed away amid the heat of the long, low banked fires in the armory. Here, away from the din of the festivities, the quiet of the vast open room hung heavy, broken only by their footfalls across the wooden floor. It was a vast stone building with high peaked wooden roof, cabinets and weapon racks lined the walls and the floor was open. It’d been built to provide a place to drill and train regardless of weather so even through the lengthy winters the clan would keep their edge. Tonight the building was partally lit but vacant, only a few of the hanging lanterns lit and most of the light in the cavernous hall came from the low fires.

Understandably proud, Lord Marwen began, “We finished this a little over a year ago. I was tired of the long winters keeping us from training properly. The empire balked at the change in their original plans, but needs must be met.”

As they walked along the hall, the sisters gave the room a critical look. Yuying responded cheerily, “Our father is lucky in that the garrison has ample space to train inside the walls, but has far more temperate weather to aid him. It’s impressive, sir. Are the other clans building their own?”

“A few, but most don’t have the resources to devote to it.” He responded, guiding them along to where a bench stood near one of the lit fireplaces. He sat with a grunt, lowering himself down onto the sturdy wooden bench and gave his knee a squeeze as Sying still looked around. Then she broke her silence, “It’s impressive, sir, I can see why you’re proud of it. Do you keep a standing force?”

“A small one, yes. The smaller clans simply cannot afford to do so, with the empire’s backing I intend to increase the forces I keep here.”

“You know, my lord,” Yuying gave the older wolf a sly smile, interrupting the talk of military forces and training regimens she knew her sister would launch into at the merest provocation, “Had anyone noticed we slipped away from the festivities, they might think your intentions less than noble.”

Yuying was pleased when the lord glanced up from where he sat, muzzle turning into a slow, sly grin and he stopped massaging his sore knee, “Tongues wag regardless, young lady, and it’s expected of a clan leader to be the pursuant beast, though I find my passions easier to channel these days.”

Having been standing, Yuying drew near Lord Marwen, reaching to rest a hand on that sore knee and rub it soothingly before she glanced up at him through her eye lashes, “I must say to imagine you restrained is rather disappointing, I know my sister will want to make it up to you for having taken advantage of an old wound in a friendly match.”

Lord Marwen raised an eyebrow, turning his gray-flecked muzzle to Sying who still stood a short distance away with her back to him, ostensibly inspecting a notched pell hanging from the roof. Yuying couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on the curves beneath the leather her sister wore and for a moment imagined she could see the thoughts behind his gaze. Yu was amused to see a momentary stiffness in Sying’s posture. Then Sying relaxed and turned, briefly giving her sister a sharp look before turning her gaze to the wolf. “I would like to make amends, Lord Marwen, and,” here she paused at the precipice of the asking, then had to flick her ears to hide a brief embarrassment, “I must admit your martial prowess has me wondering what other skills honed of long practice you might have.”

Yuying stood and stepped back, watching her sister approach the wolf. Her sister’s gaze was hungry upon him and putting a bit more sway into her normally stiff walk than usual. There was a predatory stalk to the smaller woman as she tried to accentuate her muscular curves tightly wrapped in dun colored leather. Perhaps it wasn’t the most alluring attire but Sying’s attitude and fitness seemed more primal in its allure the styles of court and gown. Yu stepped behind her sister and gave the lord a smile of her own, “Considering my place in advising her before your bout, it would only be fair if I told you a weakness of hers.”

There was a warmth in the room now that had little to do with the banked fires at either end, and the wolf lord sat, watching the fit red panda and giving a faint growl that spoke of an interest that had been restrained. “And what weakness does this mighty shield maiden have?” His voice was pitched low as if conspiratorial, his eyes on Sying as she stood so close and seemed to stiffen some at the thought of her sister’s collusion with the powerful male.

“We are our lord’s guards, Lord Marwen, not his slaves. We’ve freedom to choose, though my sister is sometimes too shy to mention her undying love of having her ass stretched around some fit, formidable and, shall I say, powerful male?”

As Yuying murmured these words, leaning near the larger wolf to answer his mock conspiratorial tones, her sister’s gaze was fit to bore through her. Though, Yuying noticed, the blush hiding in her ears and the overall tension of her sister meant that she, as usual, had hit the mark.

“Come now, Sy, you know you can’t lie.” Yuying teased her sister as she slipped away from the wolf behind the tense red panda, “I know you’ve toyed with the idea of having the fine lord atop your back.” She let her hands slip around her sister’s waist and her voice had a purr on the edge as she stood behind Sying, tempting her. “You’re a warrior and an equal here, what do you want, sister?”

During this exchange Lord Marwen was silent, hungry eyes taking in the more sinuous and fluid movements of Yuying as she teased her sister who seemed tense and on that edge where she might turn and clout her own kin. Then the red panda’s eyes turned to him from under her short hair and she fairly growled, “I won the bout, Lord. I would name my prize.”

Amused, the wolf chuckled, “And what would you take as your trophy?”

“Lay back and let me take my pleasure with an honorably dispatched opponent.”

The queer request struck the wolf lord as amusing and unable to deny his interest both in curiosity and carnality he gave a nod of his head, “So be it, then. To the victor go the spoils.”

Yuying gave a grin and a faint squeak of triumph over her victory against her stolid sister’s reticence, then kissed Sying’s neck just above the collar of her leather jacket. Lord Marwen stood from where he sat, turning to pull from the wall a mat intended for wrestling, and Yuying murmured in her sister’s ear, “What ever would you do without me?”

With an acid tone softened with humor, Sying whispered, “Masturbate far more often than I have to now.”

A clatter of buckle and the soft sound of a cloth sinking from thickly muscled legs gave Sying a shiver, feeling the warmth in her loins go from a banked fire to a growing roar, she could see the older wolf standing by the mat now, having divested himself of his kilt and doublet, now showing the barrel chest covered in thick grey-black fur beneath. He watched as Sying approached, still dressed, her hands on her belt.

“Well, my lady warrior, what shall you have of me?” The beastly male before her rumbled, affecting an amused air of deference as he stood near naked in the training hall. There was some softness to the man, years had added some weight to him though not a great deal. Under the thick fur was a considerable bulk of muscle and his scent was undeniably masculine. Sy looked along his chest, awkward whorls of fur here and there that hinted at scars of long healed wounds. He wasn’t bashful in the least and enjoyed the gaze of the sisters.

“Yui, since you seem to be so helpful tonight, would you go find a bottle of oil. I know I smelled olive oil in here.” She gave her younger half sister a swat on the ass through the dress and turned to the naked wolf. As she reached to start to loosen her belt she said with a grin, “Do make yourself comfortable, M’lord. And we’ll see what qualities the warriors of your clan have to boast of?”

Yuying, annoyed at having her enjoyment interrupted, moved along the wall to from cupboard to cabinet, her dress rustling on the floor as she looked along rows of practice swords and armor. It took a few minutes as she opened cupboards and looked through shelves until she found what she was looking for. There were bottles and jars of oil and wax for treating the gear, picking up a small bottle of olive oil she turned and hurried back, inner thighs wet with the thoughts of what may be transpiring. As she returned she saw her sister, in leggings and naught else, standing over the wolf who had taken a relaxed pose on the mat. The older wolf lay on his back, arms curled behind his head. She could tell her sister approved of what she saw, the wolf’s immense sheath lay already half plumped against his inner thigh and the dark grey/black coat shone in the firelight. The contours of his physique highlighted in orange light.

Lord Marwen lay in a pose of extreme relaxation, eyes taking in the taut and toned shape of the red panda who’d bested him in the ring and smiled a lupine smile, his muzzle opening and tongue lolling out. “Your sister returns, mighty warrior, what service shall you demand of the vanquished?” he asked as he removed one thick-muscled arm from behind his head and casually lay his hand to rest at the base of his swollen sheath. Sying’s eyes never left the lord’s face, but her sister was far more shameless in her admiration of the girth outlined by the wolf’s sheath.

“Yui, since it was your suggestion, would you oil him up? And do close your mouth, you’ll give him ideas.”

Yuying looked up from where she’d been staring, not having actually had her mouth open as she stared, and stuck her tongue out at her sister before crouching alongside the naked beast lounging so casually on the practice mat. “Lord?” She inquired, aware that she’d best ask before taking such liberties.

“By all means, young lady, your sister’s tone brooks no hesitation.” Lord Marwen said eyed the less toned and somewhat more curvaceous sister crouching in her gown. “Though I shudder to think what she has in store for me.”

With a huff, Yuying leaned in and let her fingers spread through the shaggy fur along the wolf’s abdomen drawing furrows along his belly and thighs. She could feel the thick muscle under his shaggy fur and his potent scent made her heart shudder in her chest and a blossom of heat beneath her gut.

Sying watched as her sister crouch and leaned in, caressing the wolf. She admired the powerful male as he lay there and her hands went to unbuckle her wide belt push the leggings off and onto the cold stone floor. Soon she stood naked and stepped onto the mat. Modest, pert breasts over a toned body somewhat more muscular than might be considered proper. Her fur shone in the light of the fires. Her sister, crouching in her dress, had finally drawn her hands around the base of the wolf’s sheath and begun to stroke the loose furry skin, revealing the ruddy red point of Marwen’s pride. For his part Lord Marwen’s eyes were closed and his tongue lolled out as he savored the caresses of the still dressed red panda. Since Yuying had yet to begin her assigned task in earnest, Sying picked up the bottle of oil and poured it across her fingers and, making a disapproving cluck with her tongue drew the attention of the wolf.

Lord Marwen’s eyes opened languidly and he was greeted by the sight of the formidable shield maiden letting her long, plush, striped tail curl high up as she applied a layer of oil to the tight ring beneath. As he watched this lewd display he felt the sudden warmth of her sister drawing the point of the lupine cock into her muzzle and suckling on it.

Yuying’s hands slid his sheath down along the red flesh of his cock and the wolf’s sheath bunched up near the base and lightly stroked the sheath-damp skin. She had been unwilling to pass up the opportunity to lean in and drawn the narrow tip of that slender prick into her muzzle before she oiled it. It was already swelling somewhat but had not even begun to reach its full dimensions. She let it slip into her small muzzle and along her tongue smooth tongue. The taste was strong and wild and faintly metallic as she teased Lord Marwen so, his body tensing and shifting under her hands. After a few moments, the scent of olive oil penetrated her reverie and she glanced up, seeing that Sying had finished her own preparation. Reluctantly she pulled her head back and grinned up.

“Well, I won’t have a chance later.” Is all the excuse she made as she smiled sheepishly and took the bottle from Sy.

“I’m not complaining.” Lord Marwen chimed in as he reached his large paw to stroke Yuying’s firm rump through the curves of her gown. He caressed her for a moment before he said, in a more serious tone, “I must make one request, my dear ladies, I shan’t tie with you. That is for Lady Marwen alone.”

Mildly surprised, and perhaps relieved considering the size of the man, Sying said, “Agreed, sir.” That said she allowed her long tail to curl down around her ankles as she stepped across the mat, her paws sinking into the soft padding a bit as she soon stood astride him, looming as he lay beneath her. He gazed up across the thick thighs and toned abdomen, seeing the slickness between her thighs that had made her scent so potent previously.

As he admired the view her sister removed the cork from the bottle of oil and, as carefully as she could without getting it on her dress, poured a line of the clear liquid along the wolf’s long, slender shaft, feeling the rigid bone under the soft skin already grown hot from his interest. Her slender fingers worked along the curves of the red flesh, smearing the oil in as it shone in the firelight, then she let her figners find the base of his cock, hidden within his bunched sheath, and held it still and upright as the wolf lay still, mouth open and panting.

Yuying placed her hands on her knees and crouched, spreading her legs as she did so. This revealed to the wolf the matted and wet dark fur of her inner thighs and mound, ebony skin glistening with the evening’s frustrations. The red panda lowered herself slowly as Sy lifted the wolf’s shaft in both hands, the dark red flesh already growing thicker in time with Lord Marwen’s heartbeat. There was a moment of clumsiness as Sying shifted forward and the tip probed and slipped along her oiled crease, then a groan and she felt his warm shaft press at her tight ring. The wolf lord too tensed at this and grew still, letting the sisters control what was about to happen. Hands still on her knees, Sying began to let her weight down and felt the lord’s shaft open her and sheath into her body with a delicious slowness. Yuying stared, hands still holding the base of the wolf’s erection. Seeing this and being so close to her sister’s blatant arousal, made Yuying grind her thighs together, having long ago soaked her delicates through.

Yuying watched, hands caressing the wolf’s sheath and cupping beneath his impressive balls, as her sister squatted slowly further down, easily taking the male’s legnth before he had begun to swell. It was a quirk they both often enjoyed about wolves, that feeling of growth within as they grew nearer climax. Helplessly she squeezed her hips together, seeking some kind of relief from the burning in her loins.

“Can I have some fun, too, Sy?” She pleaded as she looked up at her sister’s face, now a mask of concentration at the tension in her legs and the feel of being penetrated as she lowered herself down once again.

Well beyond words at this point, all Sying could do is nod and grunt an affirmative. She was naked, squatting slowly lower as she claimed Lord Marwen’s shaft for her own pleasure, having won this right in the ring. She rubbed her own sodden folds enthusiastically, feeling herself tremble as her fingers caressed and stroke through her swollen flesh. Trembling, she could feel the contours of that prick entering her and soon the bulge that promised to be a vast, locking knot nudged her ring and she stopped, wolf lord as deep as he would get, and gave herself time to grow accustomed to the delicious sensation.

Lord Marwen, too, had had his eyes closed for this, growling low in the back of his throat at the heated sensation as the red panda gripped him and drew him within. A few long moments, seeing a slow rhythm start of Sying and the lord, then Yuying could take no more. The wolf’s eyes came open with a start as he felt a sudden cascade of cloth around his ears. He stared up caught in the the dim shadows beneath Yuying’s dress. She stood astride his head, her hands having drawn aside her underthings and revealed the dark flesh of her sex, already shining wetly in the darkness of her skirt. Having barely enough time to lick his muzzle at the sight and overwhelming scent of her, Yuying’s knelt onto his muzzle and that long, flat lupine tongue.

Thus captured between the sisters and their rapacious desires, he had to struggle not to thrust into Sying each time she lowered herself onto him. His head was awash in Yuying’s scent as well, trapped in that dress as Yuying ground herself on his muzzle and bucked whenever his tongue would delve into her.

In a state such as this, there was no way any of the three would be long able to hold back. Yuying, always more highly strung in such matters, was the first to shudder and cry out, thighs clamping hard at Lord Marwen’s muzzle. The sudden grind and deluge the lord felt and tasted at Yuying’s climax drove him as well. His knot now engorged and feeling like a massive hot coal between Sying’s buttocks each time she sank down the now vastly swollen lupine erection. The sudden bucking of the wolf beneath her made her groan, adding her sounds to those of her sister’s and the distant muffled growls of the wolf lapping at Yuying. She could feel a heavy fluid weight surging into her guts and quivered, fingers delving messily between her own folds. The knot pushed her buttocks apart and lay like a fist sized ember there, the rest of the lord’s shaft within her swelling and pulsing with an immense flow of wolf seed. It was only as the wolf’s initial peak began to ebb that she began to quake and tremble then fall forward. She landed heavily on Lord Marwen’s chest as she came, bucking hard and gripping him as his shaft began to slide from her in a wash of his thin seed.

Verona discreetly led Partran and Dusk out of the ballroom, doing her best to draw as little attention as possible to their departure. Along the well lit corridors past servants they wound until the sounds of the music from the ballroom faded almost completely. Soon the trio walked along side corridors blessedly free of guests or servants. The long halls so far from the celebrations were dim with a few well spaced lamps for light and the carpet having given way to bare stone. Out to the outer wall of the keep she led them, then up a flight of stairs and to a balcony on the far side of the keep from the festivities. The tall wooden doors opened and the cool night air swept around Dusk and Partran both, making it clear how stiflingly hot the ballroom had been.

“Sir, M’lady,” Verona said as she turned and bobbed a curtsy, “Lady Liana said she would be along as soon as she were able to get away without raising suspicion. I brought some wine up earlier if sir or madam would like something to drink?” She stood there, fidgeting somewhat, small webbed fingers picking at one of her tapered clawtips.

The balcony overlooked one of the gardens down below. The plants there were small, save for a few trees that had predated the castle, and even the privacy hedges were still only knee high with years left to grow until they’d provide any real privacy. The balcony itself was a small area, an arc of stone elevated a few floors up, with a plain stone balustrade that surrounded it. Wrought iron benches and a few plants in urns provided the sparse decor and a pair of lanterns hung to give the chill balcony a dim amber light.

“That would be wonderful, my dear.” Partran said as he strode across the balcony, looking out and feeling the refreshing cool wind. The otter lass quickly found the wine carafe that had been secreted away and poured three cups, planning ahead for when Lady Marwen would arrive. She presented one to both Partran and Dusk before trotting to near the door to watch for anyone.

“Thank you.” The tiger rumbled, taking the goblet as he gave the small maid a nod. He set the cup of wine down on the stone railing and slipped a large paw into his vest pocket. After a moment’s rummaging, he withdrew a small metal container a few inches across and began to unscrew the lid. The tin came open with a faint squeaking noise and he walked towards one of the lanterns hanging on the wall to see better the contents.

Dusk watched, her own wine in her hand, and raised an eyebrow curiously as she saw the tiger’s actions and could smell the faint herbal scent. “Are you sure, sir?” She asked, eyeing the tiger’s actions warily.

Partran regarded the small soft cubes stuck to the bottom of the jar, seeming to be deciding which to pry free, “There won’t be time for more than one attempt.” He said as he paused and bit the tip of the finger of one glove and, one hand occupied holding the jar, pulled his paw free of his other glove. He handed the glove to Dusk and then extended his claw on forefinger and thumb, pulling the small gelatinous square off the bottom of the jar and popping it into his mouth. He rolled the quickly softening mass against the roof of his mouth as it melted and screwed the lid back on the jar before slipping it into his vest pocket again.

All the while the otter watched, eyes wide and curious, but she knew her place was not one to speak at the moment. She did wonder at the tiger’s actions and her eyes fixated on the heavy stone that hung around his neck as, instead of merely catching the light, it began to glow with a dim light of its own. Starting as a faint crimson glow, the light within the stone was gradually replaced with a deep verdant green, soon matching the tiger’s eyes. As the change finished the low glow subsided and the amulet returned to reflecting of the moon and lamplight as any other polished stone might, now a deep, summer grass green. Verona stood in silent awe as the tiger chewed faintly at whatever morsel of that strange medicine still remained.

Verona stood quietly as the tiger and the strange unicorn spoke quietly, doing her best not to listen to the conversation of her betters and standing quiet and unobtrusive by the door until her lady returned. When she felt she wasn’t being observed she would steal glances at the tiger as he stood outlined in the moonlight and to her eyes there had been some kind of change that came over him and she had to shift softly and grind her thighs together at the thoughts that threatened to creep into her mind. She’d been breathless during the dance, heart thudding in her chest as she’d been swept up. Now, without that shock, something about the tiger drove her to a slow burning distraction and made her grow damp as she stood and squirmed almost imperceptibly.

To the otter it felt like forever, standing there as a heat kindled in her groin, until the door into the keep opened and the Lady Marwen stepped into the cool autumn night.

“Finally.” She said with no small relief, “I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to slip away.” She looked to where the two stood and grew quiet when she remembered why she was here.

“Lady Marwen.” The tiger said, tipping his huge head down and giving a small bow.

“No need to stand on formality.” The wolf said as she approached, her deep red gown rustling quietly in the cool night air as she strode from the closing doorway. She stood and regarded the larger male, feeling as if something had subtly changed since she’d seen him only a short time ago. He still loomed over her, towering and massive, but she had the feeling of being in a room now with a caged beast laying quiet, still exuding a predatory air. “And you’re wearing the amulet, too, bold as polished brass.”

The tiger turned his blunt muzzle down to regard the stone, a large gloved paw lifting it from the ruffles of his cravat to let it turn slowly at the end of its thong, “Yes. I have to keep it near, it has deleterious effects if it’s too long gone from about my neck.”

“And it is a dragon’s blood ruby, is it not?” She considered the now verdant color of the stone compared to the deep red it had been at the reception. Her eyes turned to him as he nodded faintly.

“Yes, it is, and while I wish to know how you learned of it, I invite you to eat one of these before we discuss what you learned and, more importantly, how you learned it.” The tiger drew from his pocket, once more, the small enameled metal tin that Verona had seen earlier.

Lady Marwen looked down at the small metal jar offered to her, reaching delicate fingers out to lift it from his hand, raising an eyebrow as she looked questioningly at the large feline. “What is this?” She twisted the small jar until the halves slid apart, revealing the contents. The medicinal smell made her wrinkle her nose.

“It’s an alchemical aid to fertility, I don’t have plans to come back next month should things not work as hoped.”

Lady Marwen considered the contents of the jar, fixated on the faint oily sheen on the lozenges, “Do you think I need it? I am already in heat.”

“It is best to be certain, considering the lengths to which you have gone to arrange this meeting.” His voice was deep and kind but there was an edge to it, a rumble that made her fur stand on end. She felt for a moment as though he was some great predator and she the prey. He hadn’t had that sense about him when they had met before. It was new and something about even his scent seemed more feral.

She glanced to his sharp green eyes and then down to the small cubes glistening dully in the tin. With some small curiosity and a faint shrug she took the small cube out and placed it into her long, delicate muzzle. The sensation was somewhat like a small chunk of caramel but with a herbal taste to it. It softened quickly and she chewed it until it had faded to a faint bitter aftertaste.

“So,” He asked as she closed the tin and

offered it back to him. He took it and slipped it into a vest pocket, “How did you learn about the stone?”

Liana could feel a faint tingling sensation along her throat where the soft pastille had dissolved and took a cup of wine to clear the taste from her mouth, then dismissed Verona to go retrieve the book before turning back to the tiger. “I was in the capital at the temple of the Dragoness to speak with a priestess there and spending time in the great library. Lord Marwen and I have tried for years now to conceive an heir and I feared I was barren. I sought the aid at the Temple of the Egg. There a priestess discovered that I was fertile and receptive and so the inability to conceive must be my husband’s.”

Dusk and the tiger listened, saying nothing at the moment but watching Lady Marwen sag as she stood there, ears wilting and looking as though she were finally admitting some great guilt of her own. She gazed up at the tiger again, plaintive, “I could not tell him that the physicians had shown me fertile. It would mean that he was unable to sire a child. It would mean to his clan and his rivals that he was unfit to lead.”

A look of defeat hung on her face and she looked up at the tiger, “If I tell him he would be honor bound to let the clans know. If he doesn’t have an heir soon then the clans will demand his replacement. There are already rumors and talk behind his back that the line must be preserved. Were this the capital, and he an Empire man, than we would be seeking a wolf to act as stud and be done with it. But that is not their way, not his way.” She sounded utterly defeated at this. Torn between the duty to be truthful to her husband and the need to see his position secure. “I found an old book deep in the archives of the Temple of the Egg, an old scripture of the Dragoness. It spoke of miraculous effects of a gem that was held by the dragonesses of long ago. I then compared what was written there to legends from a scribe centuries ago, written in the old tongue, that I had seen in the Great Library. It led me to believe the stones did really exist, that there may be a few still floating around. The people I knew in the alchemist’s guild occasionally spoke of some of your works as a master and I saw a painting of you in the guild hall. Rumor and that painting led me to believe you might actually possess a dragon blood ruby.”

Dusk, having been a silent observer throughout this, spoke, “You understand the old tongue?”

Lady Marwen rubbed her tired eyes and sighed, “Some, enough at least, and the rest I could translate with the books in the library enough to piece it together.”

Partran and Dusk exchanged a look, the unicorn deeply impressed. The tiger turned to her, “And what did it tell you about the ruby?”

“That the stone may or may not actually be made of dragon’s blood but it invokes the goddess in small ways. It grants the wearer fertility with any species so long as the partner is willing. There may be more to the stones, but that’s all I was able to discover, it was all I needed to know.” Lady Marwen looked at the green stone and then sighed, “And thus you are the answer to my prayer.”

The three turned as the door back into the keep opened and Verona returned, carrying in her arms a small book with scraps of paper stuck throughout as book marks. She tottered over and offered the papers and book to Lady Marwen who took the book from her with and turned to offer it to the tiger, “This is the book and all of my notes. I swear to you that I know of no other copies.”

“Thank you.” Partran said as he took the collection from her and turned the old tome over. It looked diminutive in his large paw and the ancient bindings were visible through the worn leather. He handed it and the papers to Dusk without opening it, trusting Lady Marwen at her word.

“Very well...” The tiger’s paws slowly undid the front of his jacket and he handed it to Dusk who folded the book in it and held it as the tiger stretched, the cream colored shirt taut over his upper body. “Have you private chambers?”

Lady Marwen fidgeted a little, nervous and realizing that her heat felt considerably more pronounced. She seemed to be sweltering even in the chill under the moon. She shook her head, “Verona, lock the door.” She turned to the tiger and reached to undo her hair, letting it fall from its coil as she muttered, “No, Lord Tiger, here shall suffice. Under the sky and not within my husband’s home.” She steeled herself, fighting a shiver, and stepped towards the beast as he stood there. The fire within her seemed to roar now, and his scent was stronger, more cloyingly masculine than before. Her black nose twitched at the intoxicating scent and there was something that hadn’t been present when they’d first met. Whatever had been in the concoction she’d taken had begun to spread through her body. Her already hard to bear heat had become a furnace in her belly and she knew she’d quite ruined her undergarments and perhaps her dress itself.

“What was it you gave me?” She asked in a breathless huff as she lifted her narrow muzzle up and brushed it against the cream colored fur of his throat, her eyes closing as she could feel his hands slip over her shoulders and through her long mane.

“Distilled chalho root mostly, a few other stimulants.” He rumbled deep within his chest, thick fingers kneading at the nape of her neck and then along the back of her dress. Her eyes opened again and she saw the heavy stone hanging from his neck just before her, giving that dim emerald shine. She lifted a hand up to touch it, briefly glancing at the tiger for permission. He removed one hand from her shoulder to take her smaller paw in his and then led her to hold the cold stone. It felt like ice under her hand and as she touched it a tingle ran through her hand and forearm, like the electricity in the air before a summer storm. The stone seemed to awaken and flicker so briefly as to make her wonder if it’d merely been a trick of the moonlight. She felt flushed, the heat from her belly having crawled up until her neck and ears burnt and she could feel her inner thighs sticky. She could feel herself slick and her pulse seemed to throb through her nethers with each heartbeat.

Lady Marwen’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper, “By the Egg, I both feared and ache for this.”

Large paws enclosed her, drawing her close. She arched against those hands through the fabric of her gown and buried her muzzle against the shaggy white fur of the tiger’s throat. He could feel her bite playfully at the thick white fur of his throat and tug at it with a playful growl, her scent intoxicating. More accustomed to the drug’s effects than she, Partran was able to keep his mind about him as he bunched up the gown she wore, exposing her legs and thighs. She gave a slight shiver at the feel of the autumn air and wrapped slender fingers around the back of his neck.

There, sitting on the edge of the stone patio, she slid her fingers through the thick fur around the nape of the tiger’s neck and gripped hard, kneading as she felt his large paws cup her slender rear and she pressed back. Her undergarments were indeed soaked through and, now freed from the heavy dress, her spicy and needful scent seemed to wash over Partran’s senses.

The tiger let her rest upon the edge of the patio for a moment as he busied himself opening his own restrictive formal garments, soon springing free into the cool night air as well before drawing once more into the wolf’s embrace. He leaned down, at first to almost seem to draw near for a kiss but the faintest shift of her head to the side bared her throat to him and he pressed his square muzzle to the joint of neck and shoulder as she clung to him and fingers dug into his shoulders. There, trembling and held by him, she could only whine and tremble. His paws sought beneath her skirt and with a the sound of fabric tearing she felt his claws rip a hole through her sodden underclothes. She trembled at that, feeling the cold air caress her as he shifted his large body forward, preparing himself.

There was a moment of heated flesh on flesh as the tiger felt the wolf’s need embrace him. She leaned her head back and groaned at the tension and the girth of the larger beast as he entered her. The blessing of her need, the sodden mess she’d been in both anticipation and the intoxication of the chalho root had made what might have been an uncomfortable fit something that curled her toes and almost drove her over the edge immediately. She held to him as he sank slowly forward, joining her for that heated first embrace and he began to rock his hips in a slow circular motion, giving her a few precious moments to grow accustomed then once more shifting within. She knew she would not last long and she did not care. She had felt the shuddering of bliss from almost the moment they had joined and another soon curled her toes and left her biting on his shoulder to silence her cries.

Verona stared in wide eyed awe as she saw her lady, Lady Liana Marwen, moaning and biting back cries as she shuddered. The otter was unable to tear her eyes away from the tableau of this immense feline beast holding the smaller wolf and her actually clinging to the tiger more fiercely. Verona watched, unable to restrain her own arousal at the sight of the tiger’s body tensing and her oldest friend being bred there on the balcony under the stars. It was without shame that she ground her thighs together and one small paw trailed to press the front of her dress down to rub against herself in a pleasant way. Blushing furiously, suddenly aware of being watched, she glanced up to see the unicorn mare, Dusk, watching her with a trace of amusement.

Dusk smiled fondly to the smaller woman, seeing her predicament and watching her struggle with the sight of Lady Marwen and Lord Partran’s wanton behavior. Wordlessly, she reached into the bundle held under one arm and withdrew the small metal container. She held the bundle under one arm and opened the tin, then offered it to the otter, the small cubes within glistening faintly. Verona looked puzzled and hesitated, staring from the open container to Dusk and then back, but the unicorn persisted. With a faint timid tremble, Verona reached a small webbed paw out and took one of the cubes. She looked once more at Dusk who simply nodded at it and watched, waiting. She glanced once more at the sticky mass between her fingertips and then stuck the small square into her mouth, chewing it as it began to soften, the herbal taste lingering. Her attention was drawn back to Lady Marwen and her suitor as the pair began to growl. Verona almost gaped at the sight of Liana having seized the tiger’s shoulder with her teeth.

Partran loomed over the smaller wolf and Lady Marwen clung to him, driving her narrow hips against his thrusts. His guttural growl seemed to fill the night and each thrust made her whine around the mouthful of shoulder and fur she had. Within her was an almost startling hunger and need, she clung to him literally tooth and nail, demanding satisfaction. He held to her, hands on the rough fabric of her dress as her heels dug into his waist. Once more she cried out, releasing his shoulder from her jaws, and her toes curled.

“Now.” She hissed through a muzzle of gritted teeth and growl, “NOW.” She commanded the beast atop her as her fingers dug hard into the thick muscle of his neck.

At that his control shattered and a sudden heat bloomed within her, the sensation made her hackles rise and she dug fingers hard into his hide. The hungry, gnawing heat of her need for a pup was suddenly soothed by a flood within her. The tiger’s immense frame shook and shuddered and within her he pulsed a seemingly unending virile flood that soon poured from her to patter like heavy summer rain onto the stones of the patio beneath.

The two stood entangled, the tiger looming over the wolf who clung to him on the edge of the patio. Her fingers gripped his broad shoulders and she trembled. The night was quiet save the sound of pattering thick droplets onto the ground and the two panting. Verona stood a short distance away, hands nervously gripping the edge of her dress and her mouth agape. She stared at the pair, dumbfounded, until she heard a groan from Liana then sprang forward to help her down off the railing. The tiger, as well, gently helped her down as he drew away from her and the sound of wet patter returned.

As if drunk, Lady Marwen leaned on her maid and murmured, “I fear I have ruined this gown.” Verona and Partran guided her from where she leaned against the balcony, panting, onto a nearby stone bench. The tiger’s own steps were somewhat unsure and he was still exposed with his glistening and lewd erection shining with the pearl sheen of the dragoness’s blessing and Liana’s satisfaction.

Moving from where she stood, Dusk picked up Partran’s coat from over the nearby banister and draped it around the panting wolf’s shoulders, letting her lean back against the cool stone wall. Liana’s gown had slipped up and revealed her bare sex lewdly oozing a massive, virile flood. Hurrying, Verona forced herself to stop staring and pulled the dress back into place, the reek of sex a tsunami around her senses and she felt her own loins ache in mirrored need of what her Mistress had recieved. The mixture of that excessive lewdness and the strange concoction she had taken made her shudder and her thighs sticky as she walked. She glanced up at Dusk with pleading eyes as Lady Marwen, once more covered and mostly decent, sat on the cool stone and savored the twilight of her climax.

Dusk saw on the smaller woman’s face the plaintive, burning need inside her, and the mare smiled in understanding. She sat beside Lady Marwen on the stone bench and brushed the wolf’s now rather disheveled hair from her face, smiling fondly at the otter as she murmured to Liana, “It’s a tragedy that none of your maids could act as a wetnurse should this take.”

Liana, for her part, took a few moments to cobble together any form of clear thought as she looked puzzled at the half-unicorn mare’s seeming non sequitur, and then followed Dusk’s gaze to the fidgeting otter staring at the recumbent tiger as Partran sat recovering, having not had the decency to cover himself. They watched the small otter trembling as her desires and her restraint warred with one another at the sight of the unflagging black erection standing out of the tiger’s probably ruined slacks.

A long, speculative moment passed for the two before Lady Marwen gave a slow smile and said as the tide of her self possession rolled back in. In a languid voice, still distant and blissfully fogged, she drawled, “M’lord, I hate to impose on you again so soon, but I can’t help but think you might provide a similar service to little Verona, if she is interested. It would so help to have a wet nurse available.”

There was a brief moment of quiet, Verona not having realized what was said, at first, then with a sudden, panicked squeak she whipped around with a look of shock and delight across her short muzzle to stare at the Lady Marwen. She trembled there, in her plain black dress, glancing from the wolf then to the tiger who lounged there still exposed, now eying the otter hungrily.

“Little Verona?,” The massive tiger rumbled from where he lounged on his own bench, “Is it true? Would you like a kit?” His tail curled and uncurled as a cat watching prey might, the lord gently teasing the excitable woman.

With a bound that left both Dusk and Liana speechless, and gave Partran little time to react, Verona launched herself with a onto the tiger’s lap. Her small webbed paws pushed against his chest through his shirt and she was oblivious and uncaring to the smears his still erect and slimy cock left on her black dress. Her small paws tangled in his shirt as she kissed him fiercely, her whiskers fluffed out around her short muzzle.

Only momentarily startled, the tiger soon subsided into a bass, purring rumble and wrapped his immense paws around the otter maid’s waist, returning the kiss as her small tongue stroked his lips. He could feel the trembling along Verona’s long body and the press of her curves against him. Her small, webbed paws fumbled slightly in their rush to lift and bunch up her dress, dragging it up and off of her thighs. holding the bundled black and white fabric tight beneath her breasts as they seemed near falling from top. The sudden wash of scents from Verona was every bit as potent as the earlier smells of sex and wolf in heat and as the dress was lifted Dusk could see beneath that thick rudder tail. The sight of that slick wetness running down the otter’s inner thighs briefly made Dusk wonder if the dose of the chahlo root was a bit high for someone so small.

Squirming fluidly in Partran’s immense paws, Verona tried to press her belly and thigh to the underside of the tiger’s glistening erection, soon feeling it through the fabric. She grunted into the kiss as the tiger stroked her back and waist, her whiskers standing out around her muzzle while her small paws gripped his broad shoulders. Before things were too far gone, he guided her small paw up to the heavy amulet stuck between her breasts and his chest and placed her paw on it. The colors in the gem seemed to shift faintly. Soon she was unable to think of anything more than those huge paws and that muzzle and the feeling of being picked up. She blushed furiously into the kiss and could feel that massive erection against her. She thought that if he didn’t take her soon she might catch on fire.

Leaning back against the smooth grey stone wall, Lady Marwen enjoyed the cool stone. She glance up to where Dusk stood watching the tiger lift Verona up and begin to impale her with an almost clinical detachment at the sight and sounds of so small an otter starting to feel the tiger’s girth enter her. As her maid wantonly whined and kissed the tiger, learning to accept the beast, she asked the quiet unicorn mare, “Did you give her...?”

Briefly turning from the spectacle Dusk gave a faint nod towards the coat that Liana was draped in, “Just one, though I wonder if even one was a bit high of a dose.”

Liana returned her gaze to her maid and the tiger, staring as the otter woman raised that thick tail in a high arc, dress riding up and revealing the tiger stroking her small sex slowly with his already glossy, tapered black cock, all the while pressing his muzzle between the otter’s ample breasts.

As they watched, Liana murmured to Dusk, “It was very intense.” Verona cried out, arms wrapped around the tiger’s head and neck as she as she pushed herself down onto his erection, short legs trembling as she stood on Partran’s thighs.

Partran was as still as he could be, one huge paw on the otter woman’s back and the other between her thighs. He could feel the heat and dampness and stroked her folds already tightly spread around him. She squirmed and shifted, small hands having let her dress go to grip hard at the shaggy nape of his neck as she squirmed her long agile body further down the tiger. The slickness remaining after his breeding of her Lady helped but the tiger was so much larger than her. She looked up at him pleadingly and ground herself down, moaning loudly as she tried vainly to push the too-big cock into her spasming sex, already crying out in bliss as she shuddered. The herbs having made her far too sensitive for too long tonight already.

Dusk watched, grey-blue eyes taking on the scene as the otter’s thick tail kept the skirt raised in the back enough to see most of what was going on. The otter lass took as much as she could and began to bounce on her feet, the tiger letting her and supporting her as she rode the top half of his shaft. Still watching her maid’s wild abandon as the she coupled with the tiger, Lady Marwen slipped her hand into the pocket of the tiger’s jacket as it hung over her shoulders. A moment later she looked up to the sound of the otter’s agonized blissful cries.

Verona’s eyes were clamped shut and her thighs trembled again, she’d climaxed again her legs wanted to fold up under her. She leaned more against the tiger’s chest and he tucked her head under his chin, clinging around his neck as his paws held her thighs. She felt him sink into her, almost agonizingly large, and stop when she felt she could take no more. He was by no means sheathed wholly within her and still her eagerness and size gripped him fiercely, soon to drag from him his second gift of the dragoness.

Partran drew one hand back off of her thigh to wrap around the base of his straining erection, squeezing it and stroking along the bottom half of his shaft now slick with Verona’s honey, hugging her to him. Her breasts pressed flat to his chest and her moans became muffled against his neck fur. The tiger’s bodily tremor felt like an earthquake beneath and around her. Verona wondered if she might be split open with how large he was and it was with shock she felt a sudden throb, a stunning rigidity of him inside her and then the billowing, searing flood of fluid heat filling her belly. Unable to think, Verona clung to Partran, her small webbed fingers digging through the beast’s shaggy neck fur, hanging on for dear life as sudden pulse after sudden pulse of a growing fluid heat into her washed away everything from her mind but another orgasm.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

The carriage from the castle rocked as it rolled down the quiet streets leading to the house they were staying at.

“That was a frightful display.” Dusk said quietly as she watched the darkened streets roll past.

“Good sex usually is.” The tiger said before yawning hugely where he leaned against the wall of the carriage, half asleep. Opening one eye he regarded the reserved mare, “So why Verona?”

Dusk was quiet, hands folded in the lap of her dress, hers the only outfit not ruined tonight, as utterly composed now as she had been the entire night. “As I said, Lady Marwen will need a wet nurse come spring.”

The tiger watched her for a long moment, silence creating space in the conversation to draw out the rest of her motive.

After a moment Dusk sighed and said, “And maybe the poor woman needed some attention too. She’s been with Liana for a long time and has, as a result, probably not had any opportunity to have much of a life of her own. Definitely no family other than the Lady. Plus, you know that she was utterly smitten with you from the start.”

The tiger closed his eyes again, relaxing as the carriage rocked softly. Sying and Yuying had not turned up when they left, though he suspected they’d arrive back at the house sometime before dawn. Drowsily, he patted his pockets then opened his eyes again, regarding the unicorn, “Dusk...?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you have the chahlo root tin?”

The mare glanced back from the window and saw the tiger’s hands in his empty pockets and then smirked, “Lord Marwen may be in for a surprise.”

Autumn turns to winter and in turn gives way to spring and the rising of summer’s baking heat. Even to an often chilly place of stone, hardy trees, and tough people, summer will come and give its welcome warmth to Winterrock. Standing on the lawn of the estate, Partran gazed out and saw the field hands tending the long rows of wheat as it rippled like the surface of a great golden sea.

Behind him a voice cut through the sounds of the wind and work, “Sir?”

Partran turned, seeing Dusk walk across the patio in her high neck black dress a small collection of papers under one arm. “Yes, Dusk?”

Dusk stepped alongside him where he stood watching the workers, offering a sealed letter, the indigo wax bright in the summer sun.

“Ah, From Lady Marwen I see?”

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to read it?”

After his answering nod, Dusk carefully broke the wax seal with a faint pop and unfolded the thick paper. She took a moment to read Liana’s careful script before speaking. Somewhat heavy moments passed as Partran watched Mike working along the fence row.

“It’s an announcement of the birth of their son, Eldain Marwen the Second, and a naming of her uncle as godfather.”

She turned to see the tiger in profile, a smile playing along his broad muzzle, “Excellent. I’m glad to hear they’ve been blessed with an heir.”

She returned to the papers and a moment later added, “There’s something else, as well. She included a note along with the official announcement, one saying that her maid Verona has also given birth to a daughter, Irissa.”

His smile was still broad and he was clearly pleased, a faint rumble from his chest as she folded the letters up and tucked them back under her arm. After a moment she asked, “How likely is it that the alchemicals helped Lord Marwen sire their son instead of you?”

The tiger considered for a moment, paw raising to finger the heavy ruby stone as it lay against his chest, “There’s a reasonable chance. I’m not altogether sure what the cause of his inability was. I’ll not speculate either. I think it best to not consider any other option other than the boy being his.”

“Agreed.” Is all she said before joining him in admiring the bountiful harvest the estate had this summer. They stood together in the sweet summer breeze for a while before he spoke.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, sir.”

Silence reigned again for moment before he spoke. “Good. Dend them an appropriate gift for the birth of their heir and...,” He paused again, considering, “Make arrangements for a suitable dowry for Irissa and a stipend for Verona. A ticket to visit, perhaps.”

————————————————————————————

Verona leaned over the edge of the crib where the two infants lay, standing on the short ladder she used to reach the edge of the crib and smiled quietly to herself. She hadn’t expected a kit of her own and now she had hers and her lady’s to care for. Reaching down her small, web-fingered paw she felt her daughter’s small fingers curl around her thumb and Verona gazed lovingly down into Irissa’s exotic, emerald green eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> PDF of the story, with illustrations, available at http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28585608/


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